


Shanghai Blues

by AkiraRokkiDan



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Anger, Angst, Arms Dealing, Canon Compliant, Depression, Desperation, Family Loss, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Insanity, Jinchuu Arc, Loss, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Organized Crime, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Punishment, Revenge, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Survival, Violence, Wilderness Survival, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-11 09:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12932817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiraRokkiDan/pseuds/AkiraRokkiDan
Summary: Yukishiro Enishi, devastated by the loss of his older sister Tomoe, finds death itself constantly knocking on the door, only being kept alive by the justice he so desperately wants to dish out. Disgusted with the man who murdered her and the new Japan created by the revolutionaries, he sails to Shanghai, the harbour of all the wealth and greed of the east. There, he will rise up to the apex of the criminal underworld, as part of his gruesome plan for revenge.But how does a child such as Enishi cope with the death of someone as dear to him as Tomoe? People say time dulls the pain of losing a loved one, but for Enishi, that was far from the case. Permanently scarred and traumatised by her death, Enishi cannot find a way to move on from it all, allowing himself to be consumed by the fires of hatred, vengeance and obsessive grief. He believes that it is his duty, as family, to avenge his dear departed sister, and that will compensate for his own failure to protect her.Enishi POV. Canon Compliant.





	1. Punishment by Man

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy. I'm going to channel my inner villain and write a rather nasty series about Enishi, this time about the years he spent in China. This going to be Enishi in all of his fantastically evil glory (mwahahaha). We know very little about that time, so I have a lot of freedom. I'll keep this as canon-compliant as possible, however. My own thoughts are sprinkled throughout the work, please keep in mind. 
> 
> The goal of the first few chapters is to capture the extent of Enishi's suffering, something I find to be horribly looked over in the community. I'd say he suffered much more than Kenshin ever did, if only because of the extreme physical suffering Enishi went through, as well as the toll Tomoe's death had on his mind and heart. Not to mention, he was only NINE, and he was on his own after his sister died. 
> 
> Also, I don't think I have to make this apparent, but I do not condone any of Enishi's actions at all. He's clearly very mentally disturbed and needs help, but none of his actions should be viewed as excusable. I feel very sorry for him, however. 
> 
> To anyone who decides to read, I hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From sorrow to hatred, the moment when a broken Enishi's mind conceives Jinchuu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This chapter includes suicidal thoughts and an attempt at suicide. Many references to death, mental issues, mental health and so on. Please be warned.

_"Enishi, even when I get married to Kiyosato, nothing will change between us. He can't change that."_

_"Do you really mean that, sis?"_

_"Of course I do."_

 

*********

 

The boy traversed the wilds, his sorrowful baggage in-tow.

How long had it been? Not even he could remember. Not properly. A week perhaps? Two? Heck, a month? He didn't know anymore, but there he was, skulking about the wilderness like no one's business, completely alone in this dense forest. His skin clung to the bone, he hadn't had a proper meal in what felt like aeons; he was unbelievably famished, he almost felt the urge to spew out his gut. To him, vomit would suffice as nourishment at this point, it was better than grasping fruitlessly at the empty air in front of him, hoping for some sort of divine intervention. He felt - no, he  _was_ \- cursed beyond all conceivable boundaries, a heap of bones and flesh animated not by the will of any sane person, but by the strong urge to survive. For that was all Yukishiro Enishi was doing at this point,  _surviving_ , no other ulterior motive, no legitimate  _reason_ to keep going. He merely existed in this world, somehow escaping death each time it knocked on the door. And despite the little amount of time he had been like this, that happened often in this new life of his, with so little food and water to spare.

She was gone. After the person he loved or cared about most was so ruthlessly and utterly taken from him, from  _this world_ , he had wondered why he couldn't die as well, why the powers that be kept him alive through all of this suffering. Were they mocking him? Punishing him? What for? He hadn't done anything to deserve this, had he? She had always told him that the gods were cruel, that they spitefully took their mother away from them when he was born, that all they had was each other and that they should pray for one another rather than to those cruel gods who delighted in seeing their family suffer. But Enishi could never imagine them being this sadistic, this  _awful._ But they were, and now he was alone. 

Enishi tripped over a rogue branch, falling face first into the mud. His teeth shuddered as he took in its vile taste, it splattered across his clothes and face. he could even feel some of it in his hair. He barely had the strength required to lift himself back up and dust himself off; if he didn't eat anything soon, he'd perish. But maybe that was for the best, for he was simply subsisting at this point, he was a waste of space with no purpose. He accepted his eventual fate and found a tree to lean against, sinking down so his knees were tucked to his chest. The world around him was crushing him, he was permanently stuck with a sinking sensation, one which wasn't fully committed yet still felt inescapable all the same. Willpower was leaving his body by the second, he may as well be a lifeless husk at this point. He was oh so tired but he couldn't rest, he was too hungry, too thirsty, too cold, too hurt. It was hardly fair.

He noticed a small puddle in front of him; it was water, but it was riddled with filth and muck. Not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, Enishi darted forward and scooped up as much water as he could, frantically shoving it in his mouth. He could taste the mud, the dirt, the soil, the muck, the filth, the waste. He could taste  _everything_. But that wasn't the point, water was a scarcity as was food, and he'd take any he could get at this point. But still, he wondered why he had the urge to  _do_ such a thing, why he still had those survival instincts that he thought he had no use for, not since that cold, snowy day. 

After removing his hands from his face, he was greeted with his own reflection in the remnants of that filthy puddle. What a mess he was, his robes were torn at multiple sections, he was covered in grime, dirt and dried blood. His skin had paled, his face had slimmed and he could see his own ribs. The wakizashi he had stolen from the corpse of a swordsman also reared its ugly head - or rather, hilt - in that reflection. To put it bluntly, he looked half dead already. But the boy noticed a new development in his appearance, one which caught him miserably off-guard.

His hair. It had turned white.

He slumped back to his previous position and drew the wakizashi from its scabbard, bringing the blade level to his eyes. He could see his reflection up close now, and it was true. The cool black of his hair - something he used to share with his sister - had been replaced with cold and bitter white, it had lost its gleam and glamour as well. White. As white as snow seen on that day. White from grief, pain and stress. White from losing  _her_ , from seeing her die that most painful death. It had scrambled his mind beyond comprehension. What a joke. As if Enishi needed any more reminders of what had happened, what he had failed to do, there it was, a permanent mark of his failure and trauma, his grief and loss. When did this happen? It must have been a gradual process, but this was the first time he had seen his hair like this. Seemingly on prompt, images of that day raced through his mind, her beautiful yet lifeless body falling to the ground, the snow tainted by her crimson essence, the red-haired devil that dealt the killing blow, how his cursed blade tore her apart, all that blood, and the  _sounds_. He recalled his own helplessness in the matter, how he failed to protect her from that untimely death, from that _horrible_ man. How he stood vacantly in the snow, unable to process what his eyes had just witnessed, chilled to the bone both physically and emotionally. It ate him like the plague; those thoughts made him scratch his face violently with his nails. Regret, anguish and sorrow constantly occupied his mind: Why did she have to die? Why wasn't she allowed to live? Why was everything taken from her, before her own life? Why did the gods punish them like this? What did their family ever do to them? Why was the red-haired devil allowed to live, after he had taken her life, her fiancee's life and so many others? Was the world truly that unjust?

He closed his eyes, the image of his late sister was seen, a bright smile on her heavenly face, just like the smile she wore when she was _truly_ happy. He didn't know when these visions appeared exactly, but that's all he saw at the back of his eyelids now, the image couldn't leave his mind. It would always haunt him, to the end of his days. It was a constant reminder of what he had lost, what he had failed to protect and what he wanted back above anything else. Punishment for failing to protect her? Perhaps. The wound upon his soul was still fresh, the events of that day were as clear as crystal in his shaken mind, it was too much, especially for a child such as him. 

Enishi's grip loosened on the wakizashi, the short sword fell from his hand before making contact with the ground with a dull thwack, it started to slowly sink in the mud. His own eyes began to sting and blur as watery fluids gathered below them. He then commenced to expel his own woes and regrets at the lamentable situation, emitting pained and weak whimpers as those hot tears fell down his cheeks, they were rivers piloting their way to the sea. He barely had the strength in him to weep properly, his tears dropped into and mingled with the soil, dirt and mud below him; wiping his cheeks made no difference, the tears continued to generously flow from his eyes, the sobs and sniffles kept escaping him, the high-pitched whines were brutal in their frequency and intensity. 

For that was all he could do at this moment. He could only impotently cry. His sister's life and the one he loved most had been taken away in one fellow swoop and he was powerless to do anything about it, despite how desperately he wanted to turn back time and prevent any of this from happening; he was left in the dust with no options. It was all useless, anything he did could never bring her back. So why even bother? Why couldn't he just die? Everything he wanted to live for had been taken from him, so what was the point in even _living_ anymore?

"WHY?!" He screeched out, punching the ground under him in frustration and agony; particles of woodland muck shot into the air, scanned by the sun's rays before dropping down. Life went on, as usual, this violent outburst had done nothing to influence the cosmos he was apart of. It didn't make him feel any better either; he was just as heartbroken, but now with a painfully sore fist.

He just couldn't take it anymore. It was too painful. Too scarring. Too much. He grabbed the wakizashi and positioned the blade to his own stomach, he could sense the tip of the blade at his skin, feeling the urge to drive it into his gut and sever his insides. To end his suffering and sorrow. To end it all.  He pressed it deeper and deeper, feeling the sharp blade almost breach his skin. Just a little more effort and it would all be over. He could even join his sister and her fiancee in the afterlife, it would be infinitely better than rotting away in this living hell. 

His eyes closed and he saw that smile again. That gorgeous smile. How bittersweet it all was, but he would be seeing her soon if all went to plan. He held onto that one thread of comfort as the wakizashi was  _so close_ to piercing and cutting him.

"I'm sorry, sis...I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. I can't take this anymore...please be patient." He whispered before trying (and failing) to withhold his tears, attempting to cut himself open with that blade shortly afterwards. Enishi thrust it inwards, it pricked his skin and he could see the tiniest amount of blood pool out from the newly formed hole in his body. It stung a bit, but it was nowhere near deep enough to do any meaningful damage. After taking a huge gulp, he pushed it a little bit deeper, the cut was still too shallow, but the pain caused him to hiss in agony and grit his teeth before letting out a tortured yelp. It hurt, it hurt so much. The pain could never go away, no matter how much he suffered. He began to shake, but his mind commanded him to dig it deeper, to finish the job - after all, it was  _so_ easy, just a small moment of pain and then it would be all over and he could join her in the afterlife, the fairest trade-off of them all - but he couldn't physically push the short sword anymore, his hands began to tremble frantically and convulsively, as his thoughts and body acted against one-another in an eternal conflict. 

 _Come on_ , his mind screamed,  _do it! There's nothing for you anymore, you're practically dead already. So why are you hesitating?! Don't you want to join her in the afterlife?! She's probably waiting for you! Just end it all! Stop hesitating! Take your own life, already! It's only a moment of pain! Just don't think about it! DO IT! COME ON!_

But he couldn't, he couldn't bring himself to do it, for his child-like instincts meant he was too afraid, too frightened to take his own life. He removed the blade from his gut and dropped it once again, before roaring arduously at the top of his lungs and whacking himself in the face with his muddied and bloodied fist. That act had taken up all of his remaining strength, so he went back to contemplating his own existence in the wake of such a tragedy and why he wasn't willing to take his own life, despite his suffering. 

_Useless! You're a coward! You couldn't save her from that awful man, and now you can't even bring yourself to take your own life? You're pathetic! No wonder you ended up here! You deserve to rot away in this living hell of yours! Sis would be so disappointed in you!_

He closed his eyelids, the image of his dear departed sister was still beaming upon him, as if she were the happiest person in the world. But that was impossible now. It was impossible to truly reclaim all that. 

He buried his face in his knees and sobbed uncontrollably, unable to keep the image of his sister out of his fragile mind. It was there, smiling gloriously at him, but he didn't know _why_ she occupied the corners of his mind in such a way. Was his own mind taunting him? Was it showing him the image of what he wanted back in a misguided effort to comfort him? Or was it the  _real_ Tomoe trying to tell him something...trying to give him  _crucial_ information that he was missing?

He felt as if he was stuck in a perilous limbo, unable to move either up or down. He was stuck with his sorrows, regrets and an overwhelmingly dark hole in his heart. He was a ghost, clinging to one last thread of life, against his own will, it seemed. Less than a ghost even; he was a mere flicker of life hanging in the balance, one step away from falling into the dark abyss, but never quite able to. The world had cast a shadow over Enishi, he was disappearing into the inescapable tide of hopelessness and despair. He'd be dead within a few days, even if he couldn't bring himself to take his own life. He internally screamed at himself, terrified and hateful of everything around him.

 _Curse you_ , he taunted himself,  _curse you! You're worthless!_

His stomach suddenly rumbled. Oh, he was hungry, so so hungry. He reminisced about the days when he still had a home, for he no longer had a home as the one who made it worth going to was gone. She would put extra effort into cooking dinner for them both. It tasted delicious, it was out of this world.  _'What would you like for dinner?'_ was what she would constantly ask. He always responded that he didn't care, as long it was made by her and that it was tasty. The juicy smoothness of the meat, the flaky fullness of the rice, the delightful creaminess of the soup, the sweet warmth of the tea. Yes, he was hungry. But he was also thirsty, tired, cold, in pain and heartbroken.

He longed for it all now. He longed for food, for warmth, for comfort and for sleep, but he longed much more for _his sister_. He longed to see her once more, her raven-black hair and snow-white kimono, her beautiful face, her motherly pose. He longed for her gentle and soothing voice telling him that everything would be alright, that she would always be there for him, even in his darkest moments. He longed for the way she held him as he rested his head on her lap, how she gently combed her fingers through his then-black and spiky hair, how she sang those soothing lullabies that put his mind at ease. He longed for their long, peaceful walks in the countryside, the picnics they would share with her fiancee, those bright sunny days full of laughter and joy. He longed for those nights where she would watch over him when finding sleep proved difficult, the way she gently squeezed his hand to reassure him that she would always be there and that he was _safe_. He longed for the comforting aroma of white plum, her favourite perfume, how everyone associated its scent with her. He longed for her modest yet elegant presence, her calm and classical attitude, her overwhelming politeness and kindness. He longed for her graceful smile, her heartwarming laugh, her loving gaze. He longed for his sister, the one who guided him through life and raised him like a mother would. He oh so longed for it all, he wanted it all back. He wanted  _her_ back. He wanted her to still be alive. She didn't deserve that horrible and brutal death, 'unfair' was too light a word to even begin to describe how much of an injustice this all was. 

And it was  _his_ fault. 

The man, the killer, the fiend, the  _devil._ Hittokiri Battousai had taken her fiancee, he had taken her happiness, he had taken her _life_ , he had taken _his own_ happiness. If only he had never existed, she would never have died, her fiancee may never have died. His dear sister may be married to her fiancee by now, she may have been truly  _happy_ , in a way she had never been before. But he just  _had_ to exist, bringing death, destruction and woe along with him. And why was that awful man even allowed to live? He must have torn apart countless other lives and families with that blade of his, and yet he was allowed to live on?  _He_ was the one survived that day, not her? Had the gods abandoned them? Had they forsaken Tenchuu so utterly to let a wicked man like that live on whilst his pure and kind sister had to die a painful death? 

His sorrow was slowly giving way to something far more powerful; an enraged fire was set off in his soul as he picked the wakizashi up from the ground, grasping the hilt tightly. His nostrils flared, the tears stopped falling from his cheeks and his muscles tensed, despite his lack of nourishment. He gritted his teeth as he growled furiously at the world around him, at that  _killer_ , at his own incompetence, at the complacency of the gods. 

So, Tenchuu had failed, the gods had turned a blind eye to both his own family and that killer's crimes. Whatever.  _To hell with the gods_ , he thought to himself,  _useless pieces of shit_. In this world, there was no such thing as divine justice; criminals were allowed to live on whilst the innocent continued to die by the day; he should have known this when his real mother died, but his sister's death was just the straw that broke the camel's back. If the gods were too corrupt and lazy to dish out  _proper_ justice, humanity had to take matters into its own hands. If the heavens wouldn't punish that man for his crimes,  _he_ would. It was a mockery of their laughable and ineffective Tenchuu, it was  _Jinchuu_ , punishment by man.

Yes, that was it. Jinchuu. Earthly Justice. Man's Punishment. Revenge by the hand of  _humans_. The dead could not punish those who had wronged them, so it was the task of a loved one to fulfil this justice. The dead's loved ones had to take up the mantle of Jinchuu and punish their killers and wrongdoers for their heinous sins. Tenchuu was founded on the corrupt and depraved gods, those who had chosen not to protect his sister and his family from unjust harm, from death. Jinchuu was founded by the human drive for  _justice_. The desire to see crimes punished accordingly, gods be damned. His survival instincts were beginning to make sense; he  _couldn't_ perish here, he had a job to do. A debt to pay. A debt to his sister, for failing to save her. An obligation to fulfil as _family,_ as her _brother_. It _all_ made sense. 

The fire in his chest erupted into an inferno, he was a demon consumed by eternal hellfire. The flame within him was so powerful, it could reduce the entire forest to a glorified pile of ash if it were ever let loose. An irreplaceable gleam dominated his eyes as the white hair that had taken over his body stood up. He was holding the wakizashi so intensely, it felt that it might break under the weight of his clenched hand. He felt strength return to him, promptly bringing himself to stand up with such vigour and vim, rising above the stupefying limbo he had been cast into and having the urge to attack  _something_ , so he could vent out all this energy and hatred.

Enishi's ears picked up rustling in a nearby bush. With his newly found energy, he dived into it, wakizashi in hand, grabbing the creature that loomed in the greenery. By the throat, he grasped a humongous rabbit, which tried to claw its way out of his crushing hold. Furious, he squeezed his hand and began to choke it, before planting the rabbit on the ground and using his blade to slice its throat, leaving it to bleed out as the life left its body and its limbs twitched at the release of death. Its dark red blood mingled with the ground, it was now limp and lifeless, prime for feasting on.

Finally, something proper to eat for once. He wetted his lips at the sight of dinner. Of course, he would need to gut and cook it, but he could do that, he knew how to get a fire going, and he especially knew how to gut an animal with that blade of his. Oh, how he would feast tonight. 

He shut his eyes.

_Is this...is this what you want me to do, sis? Is this why you still smile upon me? Is this why I'm still alive? To punish him? To avenge you?!_

The image of his sister continued to smile upon him, that beautiful and angelic smile, matched by no other. 

_You're still smiling...you want me to do this, don't you?!_

A surge of energy entered him as he came to terms with this scenario. This was perfect. At that moment, Enishi had found his purpose again. He would avenge his sister...avenge himself, and make up for failing to protect her from her untimely death. He would punish that miserable murderer as best he could and make him regret ever existing, ever crossing his path, ever taking his sister's happiness and life away from her. This is what his sister wanted, she wanted him to live on, so he could avenge their family. Yes, that is what he would live for now, and he would not rest until the Battousai had been punished accordingly. He had to do it, for his sister, for himself. He was her brother, it was his duty to carry out this sentence, his role was to enact said revenge. And oh, how he would _revel_ in it, his hatred for the Battousai could not be comprehended, it was infinite and nebulous. 

But even still, he was a weak, frail, _starving_ child who couldn't possibly take on a man of that strength, of that stature. Not yet. As much as he hated the Battousai, the man that had killed his sister terrified him to no end. It would take years to match his strength to the point where he could utterly crush him under the weight of his own fist. But that was fine. Enishi could wait, as long as justice was eventually delivered, he could wait as long as was needed. One year, five years, maybe even ten, he could  _wait_. Death was too kind a punishment for that atrocious manslayer: He would develop a meticulous plan, one that would thrust the Battousai into the same living hell he himself had been thrown into. He would have to  _feel_ the pain he and his sister had both gone through before he could be taken to the real hell. And he would do this by _any_ means. He would do anything to do right by her, to give her the justice she deserved, for the wound in his soul could never wipe away his devotion to her and his loathing of that man. He could do this, he could definitely do this, as long as his sister supported him. 

"Please give me strength, sister. If you do, I can do anything." He pleaded, before commencing to gut his newly found dinner. He would feast relatively well that night, invigorated with his newly revealed purpose on this earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to emphasize two things in this little prologue: His overwhelming sorrow at losing Tomoe and his extreme hatred for Kenshin, as well as himself for not being able to save her from death. Despite how depressive this chapter may come off, I had a lot of fun writing it. Honestly! 
> 
> Even though Enishi isn't your average kid, I'm still trying to capture how a kid would react to the death of someone they love a lot, so the overwhelming sadness is definitely deliberate, though amplified for Enishi's character's sake. The idea that Enishi is first haunted by the hallucinations of Tomoe, only to see them as his guide for vengeance, came to me a little while ago. I thought it was an interesting way to take it, so here we are. 
> 
> It is very interesting to write Enishi if a bit...depressing. I do admire him for the fact that his passion kept him alive, even though that passion was extreme hatred. But I constantly wonder how different his life would be if all that nasty shit didn't happen and Tomoe and Akira were alive and happy. He'd probably have a good life, no? Though he went on to do some pretty horrible things, he was as much a victim as anyone else, his family was torn apart during the war and he simply didn't know how to cope after all that grief and trauma.


	2. Sailing to Shanghai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an encounter with the man he loathes, Enishi turns his back on the new Japan and flees to Shanghai.

_"So, you're saying that he makes you happy?"_

_"Yes, Enishi. He makes me very happy."_

_"Is that why you agreed to marry him?"_

_"Yes...I want to make him happy too."_

_"If he really makes you happy, then...then I guess I'm okay with it. As long as he truly makes you happy, sis, then I'll be happy as well_ _."_

_"Thank you so much for understanding, Enishi."_

 

*********

 

Swords clashing. Cannons firing. Blood curdled screeches. Battle-induced cries of war. These were the sounds of soldiers bound to the mortal coil, fighting for what they believed in...or what they were tricked into believing in. The final fated clash between those loyal to the shogun and the revolutionaries hell-bent on twisting Japan to their will, a Japan unified by the emperor, restored to power by traitors to the government. What a mess.

These were all sounds Yukishiro Enishi could hear, from miles away even. The fighting had been going on for what felt like years, there was no end to it. But these audible prompts of conflict could not drown out Enishi's own vomiting; the starving young boy's unhealthy dietary habits had caught up to him yet again as he found himself spewing all over the ground, tortured choking noises escaped him as he went nauseous at the evacuation of all that matter. The nutritional supplements he had only recently consumed had shot back up his throat and out of his mouth, in the form of a gooey and sickly paste, leaving a horrendous aftertaste in his tongue and in the walls of his mouth. The extreme hunger tempted him to scoop it all up and put it back inside him, but he figured a new food source was necessary. Besides, the crippling starvation went away when his mind turned to the man he hated.

Battousai. The very thought of the man sent Enishi into a raging fit of fury, the nerves around his eyes managed to pop out and become visible to the untrained eye. It wasn't just that, though, he came to realize that these nerves and senses were better than ever. He could see, hear, smell, touch, taste and  _sense_  like a god, the toolkit of a true survivor. Whenever he was truly furious, he could see every particle of dirt and blood in the air, he could sense the electricity flowing through his body, the blood coursing through his veins, the flow of chi in every living being. It was a gift, surely given to him by his dear sister, to help exact revenge on that worthless murderer. A gift he very much appreciated; for Enishi had known he was stronger than before, he could kill wild dogs with ease. However, he was still not quite as strong as someone like that miserable manslayer, and he certainly wouldn't try to take him on yet, for he was still afraid of his killing techniques, his inhumane power, his frightful desire for death. Jinchuu was all about patience, waiting for the right time to strike. He came to terms with the fact that it would probably take years for his plan to come to fruition. It was fine, for he could wait, as could his sister. She had the patience of a saint, after all. 

So what was he doing at Toba Fushimi, the ultimate quagmire of the Bakumatsu? Someone like Enishi should stay far away from conflict such as that, right? Wrong. The battle was dying down, and Enishi needed to be there. He  _needed_ to see the Battousai one more time, to evaluate his strength properly, to confirm what he already knew, that he was a murderous cretin who revelled in the suffering of the protectors of peace. And he  _knew_ the Battousai would be there; blood and strife were that manslayer's calling, and Toba Fushimi would offer him as many victims as he could possibly desire. Then again, nothing could quench that devil's bloodlust, not even the death of his own sister, it seemed. He kept on killing and killing and killing and killing, his soul permanently stained with the blood of his victims. Additionally, there were the rumours of the cross-shaped scar, one of the defining features of the Hitokiri. He knew that one half of that scar was given to him by his dear sister, as a final act of vengeance. It is said that scars hold deep personal feelings on the behalf of the people who gave them; if the Battousai still had that ugly scar, then it was the final proof that his sister still had a vendetta against that murderer and that his own duty as her brother must be acted out.

After the last remnants of his gut had left his body, he went to stand on two legs once again before he began to wander towards the primary location of the battle. Enishi closed his eyes, wanting to see the image of his deceased sister. As ever, she gave him a warm, brilliant smile. She lived on in his heart, always, and he had accepted this. As long as she smiled on him, he knew he was doing the right thing, and would  _continue_  to do the right thing, for them both. But he had noticed that the image of his sister had begun to appear to him normally, even when he didn't close his eyes, and her divine visage would remain in his view even after he opened them again.  It lingered more and more on his mind,  proof that she would always be there for him, for the image of his sister began to give him some comfort, it was the only thing he could lower his guard around. But to him, it was no mere image, it felt like she was actually  _there_  with him, watching over his progress. In several instances, he had attempted to reach out to her, only for her image to be slightly out of reach each time he tried. Her presence was truly felt, but it still paled in comparison to the presence of his real sister, the one he knew and loved and admired before her life was taken. But, if this image could replicate the sheer calm and comfort she  _used_ to bring to him, if only a  _tiny_ bit, it would be enough. 

Yes, it would be enough. As long as he had her, as long as he had her support and approval, he could do anything, overcome anything, accomplish anything, _be_ anything. She was his guiding light, even after death. And he would be eternally grateful for that.

Enishi wiped his mouth clean of any remaining vomit before coming face-to-face with a steep hill, littered with bodies, adorned with wasted life, soaked in blood. At the summit, supposedly, was the heat of the battle. He would have to be careful; whilst the samurai weren't particularly known for killing children, he would still need to stay out of sight, as to not be mistaken for an enemy target and promptly sacrificed to the gods. Still, he kept a cautious grip on the hilt of his wakizashi, for he couldn't die here.

Speaking of which.

"Hey, boy!" A deep voice called out from behind. "What are you doing here?!"

Enishi, startled by this new presence, swivelled around to confront this mystery man head-on. What he was greeted with was not one, but  _two_ rather unsavoury-looking characters, adorned in robes just as tattered and ripped as his own. Their hair was unkempt and rabid, their faces covered in dried blood. Both robbers were holding a tanto, probably used for mugging people on the roads. One of them had a bag slung over his shoulder. They were lowly bandits, wretched dregs who fed on the underlings of society, banking on the chaos of conflict and warfare to deepen their own pockets. 

"Yea," the other one continued, "you shouldn't be here. A battlefield's no place for some kid."

"We're just ere to loot the corpses of some poor samurai. But imagine seeing you here? Ha! You don't look like you have anything valuable, but maybe if we took ya in...a white-haired boy as yourself? You don't get many of those...if any! I'm sure you'd fetch a high price! If not, we'll just kill ya and sell all yer stuff! 

The men's' gaze intensified and both raised their daggers, slowly moving towards Enishi. The boy began to internally panic, frantically drawing his wakizashi from its scabbard, only to garner a laugh from the two bandits due to his shaking hands and nervous expression. Stepping backwards, Enishi failed to notice the body of a stray samurai, resulting in him tripping over the corpse and landing on the ground.

"Ha, would you look at that," one of the men snorted, taunting his prey, "fell right on his ass! Hah!" 

They continued to close in on him, a sinister and predatory expression on both of them.

 _No!_ Enishi internally screamed.  _I can't be taken here! I can't die here! Help! Someone help me!_

But there was no one to help him, absolutely no one. One of the brigands wetted his lips whilst the other made a mock slit-throat gesture, they were both clearly revelling in invoking fear and dread into him. What cruel, sadistic,  _evil_ bastards. Enishi closed his eyes, unwilling to look his attackers head-on. His mind went from place-to-place, wondering what to do, how to act. He was used to killing wild animals, but no  _people_. Most men pitied the boy but never bothered with him, clearly not looking to add to their ever-growing piles of issues. But these men were ready to harm, to  _kill_ , if need be. It was a dog-eat-dog world for sure.

But then, his sister appeared before him, smiling as always. Enishi suddenly recalled his duty, remembered his purpose, called to mind his  _hatred_. 

He couldn't fall here.

Growling furiously at the two men, Enishi frantically jumped to his feet and gripped his blade tighter. The nerves within him travelled outwards, popping out of his face, arms and all the other visible parts of his body. The two men were slightly taken aback by this new development but went to apprehend him anyway. But before they knew it, Enishi was already behind them, ready for the kill. He pushed his blade into the back of one of the bandits, hearing the penetration of the skin, the squelching of the blood and flesh, the cracking of bones. It went through him like a knife to butter. He let out a blood-chilling cry of pain as Enishi twisted the blade within, severing and scrambling his insides more and more.  Blood gushed out of the man, some of it even landed on Enishi's face and clothes. The man next to him turned to see what was happening, releasing a terrified scream at the dire state of his friend, both fearful of the child and bewildered by his speed. The man began to cough up his own blood, making gurgling noises as he choked on his own essence. 

These were mediocre brawlers at the very best, no actual training with the blade, no discipline in the martial arts.

Enishi pulled the wakizashi out of the man and sprung into action, jumping high in the air and diving towards the man with the bag. Before he even had the  _thought_ of raising his guard, Enishi wrapped his arm around his neck and his legs around his back. The man panicked, only managing to whack the boy's shoulder with the hilt of his tanto due to the awkward hold the boy had on him. But to no avail. Enishi brought his blade to the man's wrist and sliced his hand clean off, the tanto remained within the rogue hand's grip as it made contact with the ground. The man screamed in agony at the loss of his own limb, unaware of the wakizashi that had cleanly sliced open his own throat at that instant. The man immediately toppled over after that, his face planted firmly in the dirt, where it belonged. The previous bandit was barely hanging onto a thread of life, as he coughed and spewed out his own blood and guts. He tried to pathetically crawl away, leaving behind a trail of his own injuries and wounds, of his own life-force. Enishi sprinted towards the half-dead brigand and kicked him over so he was on his back before he planted his foot on his chest to stop him from moving. More blood flew out of his mouth and was splattered all across Enishi's hakama.

The bandit managed to scream and wail in terror as he choked on his own blood, at the sight of such an unusual and terrifying child. He got a rather fitting answer to his pathetic plea, for Enishi rammed the blade into his throat, hitting the back of his neck. His heightened senses picked up all those minuscule sounds, the rip in his throat, the shattering of his spine, the tearing of the flesh. His eyes could track every particle of the man's blood flying in the air.

The nerves slowly began to retreat back into his body as Enishi commenced to calm down, kneeling and utilizing the dead man's robe to wipe the blood from his wakizashi before putting it back in its sheath.

 _Those people, they're...dead._ The act of killing...it wasn't something he was instantly used to. Starting to doubt himself, Enishi asked for his sister's input.

"I was right to kill them, wasn't I?! They were going to take me away, or kill me! They were going to interrupt my duty! I couldn't fall. Sister, was I right to kill them?!"

And, of course, he was greeted with her beautiful smile, grinning from ear to ear. He let out a relieved sigh before he crawled back over the handless thug's corpse, turning him over so he could take the bag from his cold, dead body. After prying it from the bandit, Enishi rummaged through the contents of the bag, positively enthralled by its contents.

_Food. Water._

He grabbed the jug inside and hastily pulled it out of the bag, propping himself on the ground and yanking out the cork afterwards. He raised the head of the jug to his lips before he guzzled down as much water as he could. Good,  _clean_ water, it was oh so refreshing and revitalizing. After he had robbed the jug of all its contents, he reached into the bag for the onigiri he knew that lurked within, scoffing them for he was a boy dying of hunger. It was like his birthday. It didn't match up to his sister's cooking, but it was better than eating rotting flesh or drinking from mud puddles. 

But all this was over the continuing cascade of sounds that marked the final battle of the era. This little interlude had done nothing to change his mind of what he had to do. After finishing the food and drink, obviously given to him as a gift from his sweet sister, he dusted himself off and continued up the hill. The sounds of war were dying down as cheers could be heard, Enishi knew that the battle was over, that there was a victor. But what awaited him at the top was not what he could  _ever_ desire in a million years, putting one final nail in the coffin of Tenchuu.

The banners of the revolutionaries were littered across the battlefield, the shogunate forces had surrendered. They had won. The imperialists won. The  _Battousai_ won. The side that had taken his family away from this world, the side that had robbed his sister of her happiness and her life, had taken the day. Those traitorous rebels had claimed Japan, it was theirs for the taking. The flag of the rising sun made Enishi physically sick, he almost spewed up the onigiri he had only recently just eaten. He felt his entire body convulse and shake at this revelation, his teeth were clenched and his fists were balled tight. This was a grave injustice for sure. 

Those lowlives were too busy celebrating the moment to notice Enishi; using their newly-found complacency to his advantage, the white-haired boy pushed through the plains of the barren countryside, between clusters of tired, injured, hardened soldiers, weaving in-and-out of mourning crowds and gleeful congregations to find one man. This man stood out like a sore thumb on most occasions, so it wouldn't be long until he came face-to-face with that red-haired demon once again. One final look at the man that had taken everything from him, from  _her_ , and then he would ditch this doomed nation for good, for not only was a Japan without his sister a sin itself, but it was about to be ruled by the traitors of peace, the instigators of conflict, the bringers of war. No, he could not stay in this Japan for any longer than he needed, for this was not the same Japan that he had grown up in with his sister. With his family. This was not the  _old world..._ it was a new one deprived of justice and morality, allowing murderers and traitors of the Bakufu to rise to the top whilst good people perished. 

As a crowd dispersed in front of him, Enishi's eyes found themselves gazing at... _him_. Finally, he had found him. There he was, red-hear, sword-in-hand, just done with a fresh batch of killing. But Enishi betted on his life that his bloodlust was not satisfied. The man was more worn out than he was expecting; truly, if Enishi were stronger, he would go after him right now. But the Battousai was much too powerful, much too frightening. And the scar?

 _It's still there!_ He joyfully exclaimed in the corners of his mind. The two opposite strokes forming an ugly,  _monstrous_ cruciform scar. It was still there, the mark of his sin. This was proof that his big sister's grudge still lived on, that it was his role as the deliverer of Jinchuu to exact punishment. It was all true. But he knew that already, he just wanted to see it with his own eyes. 

Enishi narrowed his eyes at his future prey, his fringe cast a shadow over his upper face as he glared at the worn out manslayer with such burning passionate fury. Battousai must have noticed him because he looked up at the white-haired boy and his face practically went pale at the sight of him.

"ENISHI!" The red-haired man called out. 

_Huh? Is he going to kill me?!_

Absolutely certain that this was a direct threat - after all, he had taken his dear sister, he wouldn't put it past the Battousai to kill him - Enishi took advantage of the crowd forming around him to turn tail and retreat, as fast as lightning he ran, through the smokey plains, the blood-stained countryside, the sullied meadows. His breath escaped him so utterly, his pace was so quick that he almost toppled over, but he had to keep moving, otherwise, that loathsome wretch would kill him. He couldn't die, not here, else Jinchuu would never be brought down upon him and his sister's grudge would never be satisfied, a crime worse than murder. After dashing for what felt like hours, he stopped dead in his tracks and looked around him, only to find not a single soul in sight. He was out of sight of that terrible killer. He was safe from harm, that devil's sword could not reach him there. Besides, his sister would protect him from the Hitokiri if need be, she had been so helpful in his quest for vengeance so far, and he knew she was guiding him.  

Speaking of his sister, she appeared to him once more in the corner of his eye, grinning as beautiful as ever.

"Sis," he audibly spoke in an incredibly tender tone, "did you see that? He still has the scar! Your grudge still lives on! But I can't stay here, in this Japan. It'll take me some time for me to deliver justice."

He paused for a moment as if someone was directly conversing with him. 

"What? Sooner? I'm sorry, sis, but it'll take some time. Don't worry, I  _will_ avenge you, I'll make you proud, I'll make up for everything that has ever happened to you. Please be patient, sis, I'll finish what you started."

 

*********

 

Hidden deep within the cargo hold of a merchant ship, Enishi had been out-of-sight for a couple of nights; no one had seen him slip onto the ship, and no one knew he was there. He was good like that, his sister always did tell him that he was quiet, that he could pass by an entire city unnoticed if he wanted to. Murmurs amongst the crew confirmed that the ship was heading for Shanghai, a city that lay on the Continent. There, he could start anew, he could climb up the metaphorical ladder, reaching the peak, all for his plans of earthly justice. For Jinhcuu.

Still, amongst the crates and barrels, it was very cold.  It was  _freezing_. Enishi laid on his side, his ear to the creaky floorboards of that shoddy vessel; it was rough, not very comfortable and even quite painful, but Enishi was used to rough sleeping conditions by now. He was even used to sleeping on a woefully empty stomach, as he had that night. He could hear the vast open sea; the waves rising, the ripples in the water crashing, the folds of drink forming into each-other, the birds in the sky circling for their amphibious meals. Lucky them, they actually had a reliable food source, it seemed. 

 He was tired, oh so tired. Miraculously though, he felt sleep coming to him. Silently praying that he would not experience another nightmare, Enishi drifted off into the world of dreams.

_He was at a grave, on his knees. To most people, it would appear to be any old grave, nothing about it particularly stood out. To Enishi, the grave meant a lot to him. It was the resting place of his dear sister, the person he wished he could save, but had failed to. The only person whose happiness he truly wanted to protect in any way he could, the only person who held a special place in his fragile heart. He screamed and lamented the fact that she had to die and that she was robbed of everything that made her happy, bemoaned his own crippling loneliness and despair at her absence, how the guilt and self-loathing ate at him with reckless abandon. The only thing that kept him going was revenge, his obligation to his dear sister and the payback he was itching to dish out. He heavily doubted that he would be made whole ever again, but he didn't care, all that mattered was delivering justice to that awful man and avenging her, to make up for his own failures._

_He leaned over and wrapped his arms around the gravestone, trying to garner the familiar warmth and comfort of his sister from the cold stone in front of him. The floodgates opened and the tears fell from his face like waterfalls, as his mind attempted to transform the cold rock into a facsimile of his sister, but to no avail. It was just that. A cold, rough, heartless rock, that offered no comforts or reassurances. He couldn't delude himself like that, and it devastated him to no end._

_He sunk lower in his position, his cheek rested against the gravestone and his tears were transferred to its chilling surface. The passers-by deliberately chose to ignore the strange, grimy, white-haired boy clinging to someone's grave, striding past him as if he didn't exist. It was a painful sight to the people around him, but they could do nothing about it. They weren't his problem and they already had problems of their own. They sympathised with him, but could not help him, chose not to help him. As ever, he was all alone in this cruel world, one which had swiftly deprived him of everything that made him truly happy in this life._   _The boy knew he was being desperate, he knew this wouldn't garner any meaningful results, but he needed something...anything...to help him cope. But his own impotent sorrow only made him grow more frustrated at himself._

_And then, something tapped his back gently. He slowly let go of the gravestone and turned around to find out who it was that had called his attention. He couldn't believe who it was._

_"...Sis? Is that you..?"_

_A heavenly glow surrounded her as her beautiful smile dominated her face. She was sitting on her knees, inviting Enishi to embrace with her. Of course, he all but collapsed into her inviting lap as all of his pent-up energy escaped him so utterly; warmth, comfort and acceptance surged throughout his body as he wrapped his arms around her back, unapologetically weeping into her lap. It felt like he was home again, after such a long time of being left in the cold all alone. He could feel her warm, smooth hand in his snow-white hair, she combed through it like she always used to, back when they were together, when they were still a family, back before that awful man took her happiness and her life away, leaving him abandoned and without hope. He was reminded of the good times, her smile, her laugh, her kindness, her warmth, her love. Those times were the best. When they were both truly happy. Her breath travelled down, it was incredibly warm against his neck. He could smell the wonderful and calming scent of white plum, it soothed his mind like nothing else, it reminded him of all the good times with his dear sister, the one he loved most. Even still, Enishi couldn't bring himself to look at her face, to look her in the eyes, for his own guilt consumed him. But his cheeks were claimed by her soft palms, she raised his head so they looked at each other, face-to-face. Miraculously, she was gracefully beaming at him as she used her thumbs to wipe the tears from his face._

_"This is all just a dream, right? This has all been one massive nightmare, right sis? None of this has actually happened, has it? When I wake up, I'm going to be home at Edo, with you, and you're going to get married to Kiyosato, and you're going to be happy. We're all going to be happy. Right? Right, sis? You're still alive...right?" He whimpered, tightly clinging to her. "I just want this to be all over, I just want to go home, to you, I just want to see you again...it's lonely without you."_

_She put her finger to his lips. The spectre spoke. "Please don't cry."_

_But no matter what she did to try and comfort him, Enishi could not stop crying. The grief was too great, the guilt was overbearing, the regret was woefully dominant. For what he desired above all else, even above his own lust for revenge, was for her to come back. For everything to come back the way it was. That's what he wanted most, but it could never happen. The gods were cruel and took delight in destroying his family, they wouldn't let things go back to how they were. He was stuck on this earth, Jinchuu being his only purpose. For he knew this presence was merely an illusion, a spectre his mind had conjured up in an effort to relax itself. He was no fool, but this meeting had a bittersweet feel to it._

_"I swear, I'll avenge you. I'll punish that awful man for what he did to you."_

And then, Enishi woke up.

On his back, he gazed up at the floorboards above him, remembering where he was, why he was there. Dreams like that didn't come to him very often, his mind was usually plagued with nightmares of that  _day_ , and he had many sleepless nights filled with screaming, terror and agony. But this time, there were no such screams, but Enishi couldn't refrain from tearing up slightly. His vision blurred as his eyes began to water. Sure, it was just another reminder - on top of many - of what he had lost, but he would never get used to it. 

It didn't matter anyway, because Enishi still saw his sister's image in the corner of his eye, as beautiful and encouraging as ever, so he wasn't really alone. He could hear the bustling and movement of people above him; it had already been a couple of days since he had left Japan, it seemed like they were finally arriving at their destination. To Shanghai. To the continent. To a new world. This is was the first big step in Jinchuu, for Enshi needed a degree of freedom that the new Japan could never grant him, not the new Japan run by those corrupt bastards. The continent would leave him be and let him enact his plans without interference, which is what he  _needed_ , he could afford no one messing with his own brand of earthly justice. 

It seemed the ship had docked. Enishi, expecting anything, made his way out of the cargo hold and into the wider world of the Continent, his  _new home._ His plans were one step closer to completion. He sneaked past the guards with acute precision and found himself in wide open Shanghai, ready to accept anything. The commoners spoke in unfamiliar tone, but that was fine, Enishi could learn their language. He would live in the streets for now, after all, who would take in a white-haired boy such as himself? No less a foreigner? 

"Sis..." he beckoned and called, putting his palm to his chest, "it'll take a while...but I'll make you proud!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is only with writing this fic that I've fully realized how absolutely terrifying and upsetting the state of Enishi's mind is.
> 
> The way he alternates between extreme anger for Kenshin and sincere tenderness for his sister Tomoe is something I got from the manga and is something I'm trying to replicate in this series. 
> 
> Enishi's dream came to me a little while ago, I thought the image of him grasping onto his sister's gravestone whilst weeping was very powerful.


End file.
